Here at Journey's End
by ncis-lady
Summary: Fíli and Kíli have come to the end of their journey. Tomorrow they will go to war. - Just a mini (very mini) fic about a brotherly moment of my two favourite dwarves.


Today is my birthday and I decided to do a Bilbo and give out presents - well, one present, in fact. This is just a mini fic, but it's very special in its own way because I wrote it for Dean O'Gorman himself. A few girls on Tumblr made a scrapbook for him which was supposed to be given to him at HobbitCon, unfortunately he had to cancel but he'll get this one way or the other, so this (along with a short personal note that I won't share ;)) is my contribution. (And we'll make sure to have a fantastic time at the Con and make him really jealous LOL)

Massive thanks to my beta reader IssyDoodle, you're a star!

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**Here at Journey's End**

The night was cold. Tiny snowflakes were dancing in the clear winter air, and it could have been peaceful if it wasn't for the prospect of war looming above Erebor.

Two young dwarves were standing side by side on one of the upper parapets, fur collars pulled up to their chins and their hands buried in their pockets to protect them from the cold. They were silent, both gazing down onto the land far below, lost in thoughts about what the next day would bring.

The brunette sighed quietly, feeling for something in his pocket, his frown not going unnoticed by his brother.

"You gave it to her, didn't you? The rune stone, I mean."

"Yes, I did. And I don't regret it," he added hastily. "It's just that I've gotten so used to it being there and now it's gone. I guess Mum will be furious."

He grinned rather cheekily, and the elder chuckled.

"Because you gave her rune stone to an Elf maid? Oh Kíli, I don't think 'furious' would be the right word there. Try wrathful. Come to think of it, she might not even know what you'd want with a girl, seeing that you're her baby and babies aren't supposed to –"

"Shut it, Fíli."

Fíli growled when he received an elbow to the ribs from his brother, but smiled as he nudged Kíli on the head. He had missed this easy banter lately, and teasing each other like they used to do as children brought back memories of his childhood days. They seemed far gone now. The brothers had both grown up during their journey; they had gone through so much and it was almost unbelievable that after everything, they had really reached the mountain alive and almost unscathed.

"Do you think there'll be war?" Kíli asked suddenly, worry clearly audible in his unusually low voice.

"I fear so," replied Fíli after a moment of thinking, feeling uneasy himself as he imagined having to fight against the elves and men outside the gates of Erebor. "I don't think Thorin will change his mind."

He choked a little when he remembered the slightly wild glint in his uncle's eyes that hadn't been there when he'd last seen him on the docks of Laketown. He had changed. The dwarf who had raised them in Ered Luin, who had taken them for excursions in the wild and supervised their weapons training with Dwalin was no more. Well, he was there somewhere. Fíli clung to that thought, refusing to believe that the dragon sickness had claimed his uncle for good.

"It's weird," Kíli mumbled. "I always loved the stories of battles and dragons and heroes. They sounded great, and I wished for adventures like these. Now I'm not so sure."

Fíli took a deep breath as he listened to his little brother's words. He knew that Kíli would never admit it, but after decades of being an older brother Fíli could easily see that, underneath that regal, polished armour, Kíli was scared. And Mahal knew he had every right to be so, Fíli thought. Only a fool would not fear a battle such as the one waiting for them. He exhaled, and for a moment he watched the air crystallise before him with wonder. Winter was close, and he realised that it would be the first winter he wouldn't spend in the Blue Mountains.

Memories of snowball fights and warm nights before the fire appeared before his inner eye, memories so far away and yet so close that he could almost feel the heat of the fire on his skin.

"I made a promise, too, you know?" he said quietly.

Kíli turned his head towards him, curiosity mirrored in his dark eyes as he gazed at his brother.

"What promise?"

Fíli didn't answer immediately. It was a promise he had given a long time ago, many years before Thorin had first mentioned his plans of reclaiming Erebor to his nephews. The young dwarf had kept his promise ever since, a promise that wasn't tied to a rune stone, but to a bond between him and his brother that had been formed when Kíli had drawn breath for the first time.

"I promised her that I would bring you home," Fíli spoke softly. "That as long as I live, I would always bring you home. And I intend to keep that promise, little brother."

Kíli smiled almost shyly and seemed to want to reply, but then hushed. Instead he only squeezed Fíli's lower arm, for a moment looking down onto the intricate pattern on the older one's vambraces before his gaze met Fíli's.

"However this journey ends," he said earnestly, "I'm glad we did it together."

"So am I, my brother. So am I."


End file.
